The situation’s not ideal, but it buys me some time, and it keeps Saint from killing her. I can’t believe I agreed to us sharing her, but I don’t have much of a choice in the matter. He was telling the truth about us always sharing the women before. Sure, we’ve had sex with chicks on our own, but it’s never gotten down to this, where we’re fighting over a damn woman.

We make sure Jude has plenty to eat before Viking calls us into Church. Saint takes the seat next to me, per our usual. I’m still pissed and confused about what the hell to do, but I keep my mouth shut, ready to handle club stuff.

“Brothers, Oath Keepers... Let’s take care of business,” Viking begins, and the gavel slams down, officially marking the start of Church. “First up, this Mafiya shit storm brought on by our thoughtful brother.”

I can’t help but sigh as he looks to Spider. This shit storm is Saint’s fault, and that pretty much makes it mine as well for not having him on a tighter leash. “Spidey, what went down with Masters?”

Spider shrugs. “Honestly, he was fine. Unless he can put up a front like no other, I’d say he was more entertained than anything.”

“He’s going to let it go, just like that?” Prez’s brow furrows.

“Yeah, pretty sure there will be no blowback. He said that he’s familiar with the club’s ties to his cousins and that he appreciates our previous business venture.”

“Mexico,” Viking supplies with a huff.

“Yeah,” Spider agrees. “My guess would be that it bought Saint a free pass.” His scrutiny falls on my brother beside me. Saint chuckles in return, amused by it all, but refrains from commenting, thankfully. I’m sure his two cents would only spur on more drama.

Viking frowns. “Not too funny, brother. You could’ve fucked us, and that’s the last thing we need after dealin’ with the Fists. We still haven’t found out where they’re holding shop this time around either. We don’t need a new beef with anyone.”

Fucking Iron Fists—it seems like they’re always around fucking with the Oath Keepers somehow. First, it was with the other charter of ours and them discovering the Fists kidnapping women. Then Twist’s ol’ lady having ties to their club and her ex, Ghost, showing up for retaliation and us torching their club in California to send a message.

Then there’s the latest in that whole mess of them showing up to kidnap Nightmare’s kid, and finally finding a shred of peace. It was all thanks to Twist’s oldest son, Cyle, being the grandson of Puppet, the President of the Iron Fists. It’s been a total shitshow that I’m grateful has chilled the hell out for a minute.

We’ve lost too many members going back and forth with them. Bronx was just a damn kid, and they slaughtered his ass, pulling the guts straight out of his dead corpse. They killed our other brother, Scot. That man was a father figure to a few in the club. Then there were others from our sister charter as well.

Our compound was left unprotected, with half of us on the run up north and the other half on their way to find the Fists’ makeshift clubhouse. Blaze was pummeled within an inch of his life. We think the Fists believed him to be dead, and that’s how he ended up surviving. Princess and Bethany were beaten to shit, left alive to deliver the Iron Fists’ message to the club. And worst of all, we couldn’t kill them to get a bit of justice when it all came to light.

The whole situation leaves a bad taste in my mouth. The last thing we need now is to start a new war with a longtime ally, the Russians. We can’t afford to lose more club members, more family.

I especially don’t want Jude around here if we’re constantly watching our backs. It’s one of the main reasons I never considered having a woman in my life for good. She’s a liability, and with Saint, he’s like me. I don’t have to worry about him like I would with a female. If someone were to hurt her, I would go off the deep end. I know it.

Hell, Viking and Nightmare both lost their shit when their women were injured due to MC business. That’s never been my thing, wanting someone to belong to me like they have with their ol’ ladies. But Jude...she has me thinking about things I never thought possible.

“The keys were in it.” Saint defends eventually, growing defensive, from everyone’s mocking glares. “Half of you fuckers would’ve considered taking it to a chop shop. I only took it for a spin,” he huffs with a shrug.

I can’t help but grin. It’s true; a few of us would’ve called an old buddy up for some easy cash. Saint does that shit pretty frequently. It gives him a rush, and he makes money from rich fuckers. It’s not right, but we never said we were good men. There are plenty of other things out there that’re much worse that we could be doing.

“No,” Vike rumbles. “We aren’t NOMADS anymore; we need to coexist with the people in town. If we mind our own business and leave shit alone, they’ll leave us alone in return. We’ve been fortunate having the other club near; the civilians don’t look twice at us. You start boosting cars and shit that close to home, we’ll be in jail quicker than we’d like.”

His gaze hits Torch for a second, but it’s long enough for most of us to notice. There have been a few rumors about Torch doing some time floating around. How true they are, I’ll never know. I’m not the type to delve into other people’s business, even if I am curious.

“Fine.” Saint sulks, irritated with the Prez’s lack of enthusiasm. What can he expect, though? It’s Viking’s responsibility to keep things running smoothly. Saint’s problem is he’s not used to living by any rules. None of us really are.

“Sinner.” The boss turns his regard on me next. “Who’s this bitch to you, and why were you flipping your shit in the parking lot over her?”

Saint snickers, coaxing a growl from me aimed in his direction.

“Her name’s Jude.” Swallowing, I admit the truth, “She’s the one I’ve been going off to visit this entire time.”

Saint’s eyes grow wide, “Hold the fuck up,” he interrupts, his scowl pointed toward the Prez. “You knew where Sin was going all along?”

Viking grimaces and nods at him. Looking back to me, he asks, “Now, she’s here...why?”

I can hear Saint breathing heavy beside me. He sounds like a bull, thoroughly pissed off by the newest bit of information. I’m guessing he thought I was keeping it a secret from everyone, but it was only him. Not that the others knew about her either, but it wouldn’t have been a big deal if they’d found out. None of them cares like he does.

“Not by my choice, Prez. I was planning on talkin’ to you about Princess maybe helping her out to come up with some sort of plan. Her mom split and left her out in the cold. I’ve been making sure she’s got shit to eat and a place to live. She’s a real good girl, taking college classes online, trying to get her future figured out.”

“She’s young,” Torch speaks up, unhelpfully and Smokey grunts in agreement.

“You think I can’t see that?” I retorted, glaring at him.

“All I’m saying is, it’s fucked up her mom popped smoke and all, but is she even old enough to be in the club? Not looking to go to jail for a minor, brother.”

I have to respect that, but for a second, I thought Torch was implying that I’m fucking a minor. Maybe he really did take a visit to jail at some point and is trying to watch his ass instead of doing a repeat.

“She’s eighteen,” I confirm, and Exterminator, one of the NOMADs, lets out a low whistle.

“Damn near jailbait,” he comments as if I don’t already know that. Her age is one thing that’s been holding me back from her for months. Had she been thirty, my cock would’ve already been buried in her pussy the first night I laid eyes on her.

“She knows you buried her momma?” Saint asks, wearing a smug sneer while divulging my big secret to the table.

“How the fuck do you know that?” My eyes shoot to his, anger rising in my chest. Jude can’t find out. Her mom may have been shit, but she doesn’t need to know she’s dead.

“Goddamn it.” Viking’s palm slams on the table. The sound echoing throughout the room like a clap of thunder, “Is he telling the truth, Sinner? Did you kill the bitch?”

“Yes, I did. It was an accident.” I lie. I did it on purpose, but denial is going to save me with this one. I’ll deny it to my grave if Jude ever suspects too.

“How the fuck is killing a bitch an accident?” Everyone’s scrutiny falls to me, waiting for me to answer our President. I guess he’s not buying it.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

This wasn’t supposed to come out like this. I needed to hash it out with Viking privately. I get it. These are my brothers, and we don’t keep fuck-all from each other, but I’m lost with this shit. I value his opinion and wanted it firsthand. He’d know what to do or at least help me figure it out.

“She was on something, tripping hard and came after me. This was after I’d met her kid and was trying to get her to agree to an annulment,” I declare, the revelation slipping without thought and Saint stands, his chair crashing to the floor behind him.

“You married the fucking cunt?” he bellows, rage beating down on me from his gape.

“It’s not like that, Saint,” I backtrack, making an effort to placate him, “I was fucked up when she got me to agree to anything.”

“Excuses!” he shouts.

I can only gape, scrambling to come up with something to say.

“After everything…after everything I’ve done for you. I fucking loved you; you were mine,” he finishes, fishing his favorite blade free from his side pocket. Thank God he’s not near his beloved machete. With a twist of his wrist the blade gleams, the sharp metal exposed and ready to do its damage.

“Calm down, brother.” Viking jumps to his feet, the others hurrying to follow suit.

“Don’t tell me to calm the fuck down. Sinner belongs to me.” Saint’s voice warps, going dark; I’ve never seen him so irate before. “I’ll show you what happens to those who betray me.”

Everyone springs into action as he lunges for me. I’m in shock. Never in a million years did I expect him, of all people, to turn on me. My body remains rooted in place as his hand grows near, connecting before I can blink or process what he’s doing.

He’s never hurt me in anyway before, always playing the savior when I’ve been in trouble. He’s killed many in our time together, but not an ounce of that menace was pointed in my direction. He’s forever been my Saint—my lifeline in a sense.

It takes a moment for me to register what he’s done, my heart breaking into a million shreds with the outcome. “You stabbed me,” I utter brokenly, shaken to my very core that he’d ever harm me in any way.

“You made me do it,” he proclaims as brothers wrench him away from me, separating us as much as the small room will allow.

“H-how is this my fault?” Gasping, my throat grows tight as the pain strikes me not where the gash is, but straight in my heart.

“You touched her, you married her, and you forgot who you belong to,” Saint retorts, shaking his head. He’s convinced that I fucking deserve this. In his mind, I’m guilty, and he’s punishing me for it.

“No, Saint.” My palm covers my side, growing slick with my own blood. Pausing, I try to collect my thoughts, everything a bit hazy.

Swallowing, I continue. “I never forgot. I killed her for you. She wouldn’t agree… Sh-she tried to keep me, so I killed her...for you.” Finishing, I grow weak.

Glancing at my rib area, there’s so much blood. My hand’s coated in the thick merlot liquid, my adrenaline draining away at the same time. It wouldn’t mean much in any other situation, but it belongs to me.

My eye’s close just as I hear our Prez. “Oh fuck, somebody catch him! Call 2 Piece now; we need him sewn up,” he orders and a wounded scream like no other escapes Saint as he fights against our brothers. Everything grows silent as the compassion of passing out finally sets in against the blood loss and my broken heart.

Sinner’s eyes close, and he tumbles out of his chair—unresponsive—and the reality of what I’ve done sets in. I didn’t aim for an area that would kill him, but to see him drop like a sack of potatoes has my stomach dropping and my mind going wild with ideas. “Do something!” I shout as the brothers pin me up against a wall, keeping me away from him.

A fist flies into my stomach, but it does nothing to slow me down. I’ve got too much adrenaline coursing through my body. My head slams into Torch, busting his nose wide open and blood sprays over my face. This time a fist coming from him hits my temple with enough force that I’m out for the count, like a kid taking his first dose of Benadryl.